Scars in Your Eyes
by Burn-it-to-the-Ground
Summary: Over a week since the Agni Kai, and Zuko struggles with his banishment. The pain is tearing him apart, and Iroh is afraid there is nothing he can do. He fears that he will lose his second son to the pain and rage that shines in the boy's eyes.


The knife was held in Zuko's right hand. His left forearm was marred with scars, all straight and perfect, but so very, very wrong. In a page that held no letters, but only lines, they told the story of his life. Hate, rage, and so much pain. Such horrible pain, the feeling of which could never be expressed in words, but was summed up in the bleeding marks, inflicted by the hand of the one who bore them.

_You are a failure. _The knife drew a line, blood smearing the blade. _Your father hates you. _Zuko gasped softly as another mark appeared on his forearm. _You are a coward, _coward, _COWARD! _Zuko bit his tongue hard as he ran the knife across his wrist again, slightly deeper this time. It hurt so badly, but he couldn't stop. This was his punishment, his pain, and his addiction.

It had been over a week since the Agni Kai. In two days, the healers would most likely declare his fit to travel, and he would leave his home forever, to return only with Avatar, or not at all. He had been given a ship and a crew to help him on his journey. _A ship and a crew, but no hope, _his mind whispered. _No hope. _

_Shut up! _Zuko thought, cutting another line. It wasn't helping. Today the turmoil in his mind wouldn't fade, even though he had made seven cuts already. Three more appeared in quick succession. _You're supposed to help! _he thought fiercely, throwing the knife down.

Taking several deep breaths, he closed his eyes and focused on the pain. The physical pain, that maybe could calm the mental torture inside him. Slowly it began to fade, lowering to a faint throb. It was quiet now, bearable. But the relief lasted only a second, as a crash and the sound of something breaking caused him to turn.

…

General Iroh stood in the doorway. The full pot of Jasmine tea had shattered at his feet, and hand hung empty at his side. He didn't even stoop to pick it up, his eyes fixed on the scene before him.

Iroh saw Zuko turn toward him, alerted by the sound of the breaking porcelain tea pot. Even in the surrounding darkness, General Iroh saw the despair and hopelessness in the young boy's eyes. Eyes that told of a soul and a life more shattered than the broken pot on the ground. The eyes seemed to stare straight through him, and Iroh felt his own heart break into a hundred pieces as he stared back. _No hope, _the eyes seemed to be saying. _No hope, there is no life left for me. I am dead. _

General Iroh stepped forward, his feet seeming to shift into slow motion. He could not reach his nephew quickly enough.

"Zuko," his mouth formed the word slowly and it seemed to drop like a stone into the air, his husky voice unable to disguise the horror he was feeling.

He could see the fear in those eyes now, and he realized with a flash of dread that his nephew was afraid of _him. _Afraid of what he would say, upon finding the truth. 

"Uncle," Zuko whispered. He drew his arm to his chest, hiding the bleeding marks from view, but really it hid nothing. They were there and they could not be ignored.

"Uncle," Zuko spoke again, his voice slightly louder. "I'm sorry."

Iroh lowered his head, not bothering to wipe away his tears. Slowly he sat down next to his nephew. Gently, without a word, he put a hand on Zuko's arm and gently drew it toward himself. Zuko did not resist, and he felt almost lifeless to Iroh's hands.

Iroh looked at his Zuko's arm, barely able to comprehend what he was seeing. The new cuts were not the only ones. They were _layered _on top of others. Some half-healed, others only faded white lines. Iroh didn't even want to think about how long this had been going on, unnoticed by everyone.

"I'll be back soon," Iroh murmured, giving Zuko's shoulder what he hoped was a comforting squeeze. The banished prince didn't look up, staring at his arm as if it was something foreign.

Iroh returned soon, carrying a small basin of water and a clean cloth. Silently, eyes assessing the damage even as he worked, Iroh cleaned the wounds. They were all shallow, no where near life-threatening, at least not in the literal sense, but figuratively, these small, shallow cuts were bleeding the life out of his nephew.

Efficiently finishing the job, Iroh looked around for something to bind Zuko's wrists with. But Zuko, moving for the first time since Iroh started his ministrations, reached over and pulled out a roll of wraps, often used to wrap the arms during training. Deftly, the young man covered the injuries. Silence took over, and Zuko made no attempt to break it. But Iroh caught the self-conscious movement as Zuko put his other hand over the wrapping, as if that would better hide what had been done.

"Hiding this won't help," Iroh said, enveloping Zuko's hand in his own. "I can't force you to talk, but please, you need to stop hiding, and begin the journey to healing. Please talk to me. I will listen. How long have you been doing this? What started it?"

For a moment he was sure Zuko would not answer, and he sighed deeply.

"Three years," Zuko whispered suddenly. Iroh looked over and saw the tears clouding his nephew's eyes. Three years ago would have placed Zuko at eleven years of age. Eleven years old, and already so broken beyond description.

"Why?" Iroh asked, his voice threatening to crack with the suppressed ache.

"Because it was easier. When I did this, all the other pain stopped."

Iroh digested this silently.

"What kind of other pain?" he asked carefully.

Zuko was still for a few more seconds.

"My father," he whispered finally, his voice breaking on the last syllable.

Iroh felt his throat constrict and his first clench. _Ozai. _His brutality and cruelty ran deeper than even the burn mark on Zuko's face. The real scars were the ones that could never be seen or touched, the ones on Zuko's soul.

"He hurt me before," Zuko continued, his voice sounding weak and numb. "Some days I could barely stand after he beat me."

The silence pressed down on Iroh's shoulders as Zuko continued to stare into space.

"It was my fault," Zuko said finally, his voice rising. "I was never good enough! I tried so hard! But I couldn't get better. I'm a _failure! _He had every right to punish me! Every right to _hate _me!"

A tear slipped down Iroh's cheek.

"No," he whispered. "What my brother did to you was _wrong_. You are his son, and he never should have laid a hand on you with the intention to hurt."

_Curse you Ozai! _Iroh thought fiercely, as if his he were speaking directly to his brother, the man who had caused all this pain. _He is your son! Not your dog, not your property, your _son! _Your own flesh and blood! Does this mean nothing to you? _

"Do you know why you were banished?" Iroh said softly, choosing his words carefully. He knew he was walking a narrow line with his nephew, but he needed to get through to this broken young man sitting besides him.

Zuko looked up, anger flashing across his features.

"Of course!" he said, almost yelling. "Because first I was disrespectful, and then a dishonorable coward!"

"Tell me," Iroh said quietly, "Does standing up and defending the lives of many men, who were about to be purposefully slaughtered sound dishonorable to you? Does refusing to fight your own father sound cowardly? True bravery and honor is refusing to give into the voices of the crowd who are urging you to take the wrong path."

Zuko did not respond. Iroh, unsure what else he could do, put an arm gently around his nephew's shoulders. He felt Zuko flinch, but the boy did not pull away. For a moment the light seemed to flicker, and Iroh saw instead of Zuko another, older boy, dying in his arms.

_Lu Ten, _Iroh thought, _I have lost you, my first son, to the rage of battle, I can only hope that I do not lose my second son to the abuse of his true father. Zuko is my son now, and I will do all I can to protect him._

"Uncle?"

Iroh looked up quickly.

"Do you think I will find the Avatar?" Zuko whispered.

Iroh contemplated his words. Truthfully, he doubted that Zuko would find the Avatar, but he was not willing to take away his nephew's one hope.

"He has not been seen for a hundred years," he said slowly.

"But he's my only way back home!" Zuko said. "There must be some reason this happened to me. I'm sure it is my destiny to capture him."

Iroh sighed. He would never understand how Zuko could be so determined to return to the man who had broken him beyond belief. But for the first time Iroh saw a spark of hope in those tortured, scarred, eyes. Only time would tell if it would light into a flame.

**A/N: Okay, that was weird. Sorry, I just suddenly felt like writing that. Anyway, explanation time. I'm sure some of you are going to object to this, but I can easily see Zuko cutting. I can also see his father beating him. I mean, seriously, he BURNED HIS FACE! Later in the series he also shot lightning at him, so he obviously felt no remorse. I'm guessing for him to have been able to do that so easily, it probably wasn't the first time he had abused his son. Now, Zuko's reaction. I can see two reason's why Zuko would cut himself. One: He was in a lot of emotional pain. Cutting was his way to drown that out and get some peace. Two: he felt like he had done something wrong and deserved to be punished. **

**Also, the abusive Ozai idea explains why Zuko was such a bad bender when he was young. He was afraid. When he messed up his bending he got hurt. There are two reactions to this. Try harder and push yourself to relentless limits, striving for perfection (Azula, anyone?), or associate what you're trying to do with pain. I'm guessing Zuko took the second one, and he was afraid of bending, and of fire. When he was banished, Iroh took over his teaching. Now, as anyone could tell, Iroh is NOT abusive, so Zuko began to heal from his fear. **

**On a completely different topic, does anyone know any really good Zuko angst fics? I would love to hear some suggestions. I don't care how long they are, or what they're rated (but of they're M maybe it would be good if you told me why). I also don't mind if they're completely angst, or if they have some good plot, as long as they are angsty. SO, if you have suggestions I would love to hear them (please include the author name)!**

**Do I get an award for having such a long author's note? **


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